


bad decisions

by Sevidri



Category: DCU, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Age Difference, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Daddy Issues, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, One Night Stands, Pre-Iron Man 1, Unhappy Ending, assumptions of abuse, but then Iron Man 1 happens so it's gonna be fine!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:28:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23715181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sevidri/pseuds/Sevidri
Summary: Dick snorted. “No one goes to a dive bar looking for the red carpet treatment.” He took another sip of his drink, emptying the glass, and put it down on the counter with a dull thud.“Whatdopeople look for in dive bars?” Tony asked, raising his hand to order another round for them.Dick shot him a sideways look. “Bad decisions, mostly.”Two strangers meet in a bar. It's not going to make either one of them any happier, but that's not really what they're looking for anyway.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Tony Stark
Comments: 19
Kudos: 111





	bad decisions

**Author's Note:**

> I kinda couldn't resist smashing these two characters together, because they both have daddy issues and self-destructive tendencies, but let these manifest quite differently. It just seemed like such a potentially disasterous combination, especially before Tony is Iron Man.
> 
> Please mind the tags and be aware that no one in this story is in a particularly good headspace and Tony doesn't have a particularly high opinion of himself! 
> 
> Many thanks to frecklebomb for betaing and to yeswayappianway for the encouragement and tagging help!

Tony was drunk. Which wasn't at all an unusual occurrence, but it was currently his only defense for why he was staring so intently at the guy sitting halfway down the bar.

It wasn't just that the guy was attractive, though he certainly was. If that had been all, Tony would have slid in next to him and bought him his next drink a while ago.

It was that he was familiar, but in a way Tony couldn't place. He didn't quite look like a model, though he certainly had a face you could put on a billboard. There was something a bit too unpolished, a bit too casual about the way he moved, like he wasn’t inviting attention so much as tolerating it. Like he was aware of the eyes looking his way but didn’t particularly enjoy their glances.

Besides, in Tony's experience models tended to hang out in high end clubs and fashionable restaurants, not dive bars in the middle of New York. 

Tony signaled the bartender for another whiskey, then finished it off in one go and called for another. He turned to look at the stranger again, just to find his seat empty.

“Figured it out yet?” a voice on his other side asked, startling him so much he almost spilled his drink. The man’s mouth twitched like he wanted to laugh as he slid onto the stool next to Tony. “Where you’ve seen me before, I mean,” he added helpfully.

The guy’s posture was loose and relaxed, one elbow propping him up on the bar, his legs spread casually like he was inviting Tony to look at him some more. So Tony did.

If he had to guess, he’d say this guy was somewhere in his early twenties. He had dark hair that fell across his forehead in a way that looked both casual and immaculate, that reminded Tony of how only professional hairstylists ever managed it. His clothes looked expensive too, even though all he was wearing was a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved shirt, his leather jacket draped over the stool next to him.

His eyes were a striking blue color, and were looking right back at Tony. Clearly, he didn’t mind the attention now.

“Are you an actor or something?” he asked, earning him another almost-smile.

“Not quite,” he replied, taking a sip of his drink, which had appeared out of thin air just like him, giving Tony a once-over.

“A porn star?” Tony suggested, mostly to see his reaction. All he got was a raised eyebrow.

“Now you’re just guessing,” the stranger accused. 

Tony shrugged. “Hey, I have to start somewhere and you definitely have the look for it,” he said, giving the man another once-over. 

Part of him expected the other man to get offended at that, but he just smirked. “And you haven’t even seen me naked.”

Tony laughed. “See, now that’s helpful! That rules out so many people.”

“Oh, don’t worry. If we’d had sex you would’ve remembered it,” the man said, giving Tony a self-assured grin, and Tony didn’t doubt it for a second. “We’ve never actually met, I think. We just move in the same circles sometimes.”

Tony squinted at him, trying to recall his face from a conference call, or meeting, or award ceremony, or charity—

“Hey, you’re Bruce Wayne’s kid. Richard Grayson, right?” Tony said when the penny finally dropped. And looking back, it was strange that he hadn’t recognized him earlier, given the amount of interest the media on the East coast took in all things Bruce Wayne.

“Dick.” Tony blinked.

“Uhm. Me or Wayne?” he asked, more baffled than offended, and Grayson laughed. 

“Me, actually. I go by Dick when I’m not playing high society. It’s what my parents used to call me,” he added, taking the wind right out of all of Tony’s jokes. Right, Grayson was an orphan. He’d forgotten about that part. Except— “And I’m not his kid. Not really.”

Yeah, Tony wasn’t going to touch that with a ten-foot pole. “So, what brings you to New York?” he asked instead. “I mean, you’re basically Gotham royalty. Wouldn’t it be cozier for you down there?”

Dick snorted. “I don’t think anyone’s ever described Gotham as cozy before. And no one goes to a dive bar looking for the red carpet treatment.” He took another sip of his drink, emptying the glass, and put it down on the counter with a dull thud.

“What _do_ people look for in dive bars?” Tony asked, raising his hand to order another round for them.

Dick shot him a sideways look. “Bad decisions, mostly.”

Tony hummed. “Yeah, sounds about right.” He hadn’t checked his watch in a while, but he was fairly certain it was way past his bedtime. Not that he had a bedtime, but it was way past when any responsible adult with a 10am meeting the next day should have been in bed.

Good thing no one ever expected Tony to be responsible. “So, can I buy you a drink?” he asked, as the bartender put down another glass of whiskey in front of him. 

Dick studied him for a moment, then his fingers reached for Tony’s glass, picking it up delicately and downing it in one go. Tony couldn’t take his eyes off the long line of his throat when he swallowed.

“I think you can take me back to your suite,” Dick said, not even the tiniest bit of modesty in his voice, and well, it’s not like Tony hadn’t been aiming for that anyway.

————— 

“Anyone ever told you your ass is amazing?” Tony gasped out, pressing his mouth to Dick’s throat, his hands firmly on the aforementioned amazing backside.

The angle was weird but he could still see Dick roll his eyes. “Only every other person I’ve ever had sex with,” he replied, voice incredibly dry for someone currently kneeling over Tony’s lap. “And about every twelfth person who sees me walking down the street.”

Tony pulled back a bit at that. “Wow, I can’t even decide if that’s flattering or just flat out creepy.” 

Dick’s laugh sounded bitter. “Definitely the second one.”

“Alright, no more comments about your ass, got it,” Tony acquiesced and got a small, lopsided smile in return.

“Nah, I don’t mind if it’s you,” Dick said, sounding oddly sincere. It hit Tony weird, pushed more than just skin deep and made him feel warm in a way that had nothing to do with the very hot guy still half perched on his lap.

Before he could think about that too much, Dick leaned back down for a kiss, thoroughly distracting Tony from whatever that moment had been. Nimble fingers made quick work of the buttons of Tony’s shirt, before straying down to Tony’s belt. 

“Whoa, you’re eager,” Tony said when Dick unzipped his fly and slid his very skilled fingers into Tony’s pants. Dick pulled back, undoubtedly so Tony could see his incredulous expression better.

“Isn’t that why you pick up a stranger in a bar?” he asked, sounding quite judgemental to Tony’s ears. “Are you complaining?” he then added, effectively cutting off all of Tony’s protest.

“Nope, not complaining, just commenting,” Tony said quickly, and was rewarded with a hand stroking over his cock on top of his underwear. 

“How about we go with less talking?” Dick suggested, with a wry little smile. He leaned back so he could pull his shirt over his head. 

“Less talking is good, I can— Holy shit, what happened to you?” Tony gasped, staring at the array of scars across the skin of Dick’s otherwise very shapely torso. Tony was in no means an expert, but some of them looked old.

There were thin white lines that looked like long-healed, well-treated knife wounds, the skin just discolored rather than ragged and uneven. Up by Dick’s shoulder, there was another which hadn’t healed quite as evenly, a spot about an inch in length standing out starkly, like someone had stabbed him there. And down on his side was something that looked like some sort of burn, not even fire, but maybe some sort of acid—

“I had an interesting childhood,” Dick said, and he looked a bit puzzled, like he hadn’t expected Tony’s reaction, and that frankly said a lot about the sort of people he usually slept with. Not good things, as far as Tony was concerned. And another thing was—

“Some of these don’t look that old,” he said, and suppressed the urge to reach out and run his fingers over a smooth white line along Dick’s ribs. Another thought occured to Tony and made the blood freeze in his veins. “Shit, did Wayne do this to you?”

Dick’s expression did— something. It looked a bit like he’d bitten into a lemon and was trying not to sigh at the same time. “Not everything in my life is about Bruce,” he said, which didn’t really answer the question. Given that the mood was more than ruined already, Tony didn’t see an issue with pushing onwards.

“If you got these while you were his kid— ward, whatever, this is about him. Jesus, that looks like you got stabbed,” he exclaimed, pointing to the scar on Dick’s shoulder. Dick just gave him a calculating look.

“I did,” he confirmed, like that was just a normal thing that happened to everyone. At Tony’s incredulous look, he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Look, I got kidnapped a lot when I was a teenager, okay?” he said, sounding annoyed rather than scared or traumatized or anything else that would have been a reasonable emotion for that sort of statement.

“People wanted Bruce’s money and they thought I’d be a good way to get it. Sometimes they hurt me to show they meant business. End of story,” Dick said, and it made sense, sort of, but it still didn’t feel quite right. Kidnappers didn’t stab their victim and risk them bleeding out, for one, not if their main interest was getting paid. Tony was in the uncomfortable position of having been briefed on multiple potential kidnapping scenarios and how to behave accordingly. He couldn’t imagine Dick hadn’t gotten the same training somewhere along the way.

Some of his skepticism must have shown on his face because Dick sighed again. “Look, I can put my shirt back on if this is gonna be an issue.”

“That’s not— It’s not an issue, just—” A surprisingly strong push to his shoulders sent Tony crashing into the mattress.

“I thought we agreed, less talking,” Dick said, crawling over him with an almost predatory look in his eyes. “Now, do you wanna keep asking me dumb questions or do you wanna get off?”

And it wasn’t like Tony really cared where the scars came from. This was just a night of fun, no strings attached, just how he liked it, and like hell was he gonna ruin it with some misplaced concern. No matter what bad feeling it left in the bottom of his stomach.

“Wanna show me what else you got?” Tony asked, and when he let his eyes meaningfully drift down to Dick’s waistband he took care not to linger on any of the scars for too long. It wasn’t like they were even that noticeable unless you paid attention, and Tony was more than capable at not paying attention.

And when Dick finally took off his pants, Tony didn’t remark on what must have clearly been another stab wound on his thigh or the surgical scar on his knee. It wasn’t any of his business. He wasn’t here to care, so he just— didn’t.

————— 

The sound of the shower woke Tony and he blinked at the dimmed light in the room. There was no way it was morning already. He felt like he’d just dozed off minutes ago. One of the bedsheets was lying on the floor, where Tony remembered tossing it after using it for a very perfunctory wipe-down.

There was a pleasant ache in his muscles and he stretched to bask in it some more. It wasn’t like he didn’t have a vast enough pool for comparison, but Tony couldn’t quite remember the last time someone had worn him out like this. Despite the initial moment of awkwardness, Dick had been more than enthusiastic once they actually got to the sex. 

Tony chanced a glance over at the bathroom door, and was just trying to figure out if his body could handle one more round when he heard the water shut off. A minute later Dick walked back into the bedroom, a towel wrapped around his waist and another around his neck. With his skin slightly flushed from the hot water, the white lines of the scars stood out even more than before.

Dick paused when he saw Tony lounging in the bed. “Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you, I just—” He ran a hand through his wet hair, looking surprisingly unsure all of a sudden. “I wanted a shower. I’ll be out of your hair in a minute.”

Something about his behavior left a bitter taste in Tony’s mouth. It wasn’t like he wanted Dick to stay longer, he just— he was used to having to try a bit harder to get his one night stands to leave. Most of them insisted on staying until breakfast at least. It was the break in routine that bothered Tony, not that Dick clearly didn’t want to stay.

“Take all the time you need,” Tony offered magnanimously, and settled into a more upright position so he could watch Dick put his clothes on. Dick gave him a dry look, but he dropped his towel anyway and even bent over to retrieve his pants, giving Tony an absolutely fantastic view.

“I’m not kicking you out, you know,” Tony said, as close as he could let himself get to actually asking him to stay.

“You don’t have to,” Dick replied, pulling a pair of jeans over his hips, and Tony hadn’t paid much attention to his clothes when he’d been taking them off, but now he could see that his initial assessment in the bar had been a bit off. Dick’s clothes were expensive, yes, but they also looked well-worn. His boots had scuff marks that even the best polishing couldn’t get rid of, and his jeans looked a bit threadbare.

“I know not to overstay my welcome,” Dick continued, and Tony couldn’t stop his mind from flashing back to their earlier conversation, the bitter tone in Dick’s voice whenever he’d talked about—

“Is that what happened with Wayne?” Tony asked, and Dick froze. He was facing the door, his back turned towards Tony, and it was impossible to see his expression like this, but Tony could see his fingers turning white from how hard he was clutching his shirt, so he pushed. “Overstayed your welcome, I mean?”

For a moment, Dick didn’t say anything, then he let out a huff. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess you could put it like that. Guess I just wasn’t what he wanted me to be anymore.” He sounded far-off, like he was barely even talking to Tony. Like saying it mattered more than the person he was saying it to. 

Tony hesitated. Oh, what the hell. “If you need help—” he started, but a harsh laugh from Dick cut him off.

“Don’t worry, I’m not looking for another sugar daddy,” he said, his voice sardonic.

Tony tried not to react to the comment, tried not to be offended. It wasn’t an unreasonable assumption to make. “Is that what he was to you?” he asked instead.

Dick’s shoulders sagged as he let out a deep breath, like his entire body was deflating. “No,” he said, more quietly this time. “No, that’s not it at all.” He looked smaller all of a sudden, no trace the confident man that Tony had met in the bar left over, and Tony wanted to reach out across the empty space of the bed between them and touch him.

“If he hurt you—” Tony started, but Dick cut him off.

“Whatever you’re thinking, it’s not that,” he said, turning around to look at Tony, and there was some fire back in his eyes. “Trust me, it’s not.” Tony’s eyes went to the scar on his shoulder again, and by the way Dick stiffened he must have not been particularly subtle about it.

He didn’t know how to do this, had no idea how to— how to talk to people who were, maybe, victims. He didn’t do comforting, he didn’t do emotions, and somehow he still couldn’t just let Dick leave without—

“Okay,” he said, trying to make his voice light. “I’m just saying, if it were— that. I could help you. I have lawyers,” he added helpfully, just to let Dick know. He had money. He could give him options.

While he didn’t exactly expect Dick to break down in thankfulness at the offer, he did expect— some relief maybe. Gratitude. Something like that. Instead Dick’s face just got more closed off.

“I don’t need a hero,” he said, his voice flat. The ' _And if I did, it wouldn’t be you_ ,' going unspoken. Tony resisted the urge to pull the sheets up, even though he very much felt like hiding.

“Yeah, alright,” he said, and he must have said it too quickly, or maybe his expression wasn’t as neutral as he’d hoped, because something in Dick’s face softened.

“Look,” he said, running a hand through his hair again. “Bruce didn’t abuse me, or whatever you’re thinking. He’s just— he just pisses me off sometimes. And sometimes I just need to do something I know he wouldn't approve of.”

It was more than he’d said about himself all night, but Tony wasn’t really in the mood to appreciate that. He still felt raw, too open. “I guess fucking men twice your age is a good way to work through the daddy issues,” he shot back, and it came out meaner than intended. Or maybe not. Maybe he’d wanted it to hurt.

Instead of backing away, Dick’s eyes narrowed like he was going to yell at Tony. Then his face relaxed again and he shrugged, nonchalant. “We can’t all show up to board meetings hungover. Or not at all.”

Tony stared at him, frozen in shock. Dick just pulled on his shirt, those damned scars disappearing, and grabbed his discarded leather jacket. “See you around,” was all he said, before walking across the room. He paused at the door. “Or not,” he added, without turning around.

The door fell shut behind him, leaving Tony alone in the half-light. The pleasant ache in his muscles had turned sour, and the stickiness on his stomach was now gross rather than enticing. He briefly debated taking a shower, but showering always left his brain dangerously unoccupied.

He chanced a glance at the clock on the nightstand. 4am. He considered his options. The alcohol was long gone from his system, burned away by physical exertion, and he hadn’t had as many drinks as usual before Dick had interrupted him, anyway. He could go to sleep now, get five hours and be somewhat presentable at the meeting tomorrow.

He wouldn’t be doing it just to prove Dick wrong. He didn’t care about his opinion, anyway. And he didn’t miss meetings because it would have pissed off his dad to begin with, that was some amateur psychology bullshit and he was better than that. 

With a sigh he got off the bed and went over to the minibar, looking down at the array of bottles arranged just for him and his guest. He wasn’t really sure how the entire evening had gone so wrong somehow. 

He poured himself a glass of whiskey and downed it in one go. Dick Grayson didn’t know anything about him. 

Tony was fine.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it!
> 
> If this gave you feelings about either of these characters or you have any questions, please leave me a comment!


End file.
